


TWRP's Very Sexy Christmas

by discocalypse



Category: Ninja Sex Party - Fandom, TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Christmas Special, Feel Good Family Comedy of The Year, First Christmas, Gen, The Meaning of Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9024985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discocalypse/pseuds/discocalypse
Summary: TWRP seek to understand the human custom "Christmas" and what it means for the citizens of Earth... But the human friends they can ask are limited. (Unfinished/abandoned but enjoy the first... half.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I decided after letting it slide by for 2 Christmases that I won't be finishing this piece... I'm not really a fan of NSP anymore and I have no desire to write them. Sorry, guys!

Lord Phobos' bare fingers traced the edges of the calendar sat between his legs on the floor. He hadn't flinched as the pad of his right index opened and wept. Lost in thought, his human reaction was to press the wound between his lips. Instead, it clashed against his respirator, leaving a new splatter of red.

"No matter how many times we throw these shitty fucking knobs at this motherfucking tree, they just won't stick!" Even the random shattering of glass and frustrated shouting of Commander Meouch didn't rouse him. Phobos wiped the blood from his visor with a thumb. Continued pouring over the photo on the top page with the other hand.

Beside Meouch, hurling soft-ball pitches at a great pine kiddy-cornered at the far edge of the brig; one Doc Sung. Finger-less gloves curled across the surface of a frosted ornament. He squared himself, wound up, and tossed underhand. As if by miracle, the hanger caught the tree's spindles and wobbled dangerously. In fear of premature celebration, but still feeling a sense of pride, the time-traveler's hands balled to fists. His mouth hung wide, pumping his arms into the air in silence.

The Commander's wailing ceased to watch the spectacle unfold. Anger flared within him. Competitive to a fault, he was furious that Sung had managed to succeed before he had--And in less attempts! But he remained silent, too, as the bobble's swinging slowed. Slowed. Ended. He'd done it! Sung's fists lowered to his chest and he punched the air in excitement, hooping and hollering. Meouch forgot his anger for now, roaring out a congratulation. Maybe they'd had this holiday figured out after a--

**_CRASH!_ **

Phobos startled, chin turning up toward the source as he sprung to his feet. The sound that followed--No, the sounds--twinkled. The celebrating men slowly turned as Havve Hogan dusted off his hands. At his feet, among the rubble of hundreds of destroyed objects, was a crate more.

"I HAD NO IDEA THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT WAS ONE WHO WROUGHT DESTRUCTION. ALLOW ME TO JOIN IN."

_Ping!_

They turned back to the tree, just as the only hanging ornament rolled to the floor and shattered. Both groaned, dragging fingers down their faces in exasperation.

"Havve. Buddy," Meouch pushed aside a bank of debris with a boot, moving to take a step toward Hogan. Sung rushed to the remains of his accomplishment. "You're killing us here, guy."

"IF ONLY YOU KNEW EXACTLY HOW MUCH I'VE FANTASIZED ABOUT THIS EXACT SENTIMENT. FATHER CHRISTMAS MAY ONLY SMILE UPON ME." Meouch swore he could hear a smile at the end of Havve's words, for the first time since they'd met. He shook out a chill, choosing to ignore the statement and seek out unharmed Christmas bulbs from the box.

"I don't really understand what we're not getting here. The bulbs go on the tree, right?" Sung's voice was muffled by his shoulder. He worked at clearing a spot under the tree to sit, the remains of his special little bulb hanging from string at his finger. "I swear I've looked at that picture for a year now."

"You have." The lion groaned before producing a sphere that had remained unscathed.

"You've been trying to figure this out since the last--." Hogan interrupted with a knee to Meouch's hand, causing the glass to shatter under it. "--Last December twent-- Are you fucking kidding me right now, Havve?"

"I BELIEVE DUMB-DUMB HAD MEANT TO SAY DECEMBER TWENTY FIFTH."

"Right." Resigned, Meouch figured the best option would be getting the hell away from Hogan. He settled himself beside Phobos, regarding the calendar photo of a human family gathered under a Christmas tree as a cover. The torment did not relent, but this time it had come from an unexpected party. Phobos insistently began snapping his fingers, pointing toward the paternal figure on the page.

"What is it, Lord Phobos?" Sung dusted shards of glass from his fanny as he stood, craning his body to peer over the silent one's arm. "We... Need a pipe? We need to smoke a pipe? With a mustache?"

Phobos' stillness at that moment, coupled with the way he looked up from the photo with creeping slowness, resembled a glare. A steady finger re-positioned toward the outer edges of the smiling father, crawling around his outline. The finger then left the page, flicking to point toward their floor.

"We need to... Cut out the man, and glue it to the floor?"

A throaty gurgle cut across the cyborg's suffocated vocal cords before he replaced his electrolarynx.

"HE IS SAYING THAT WE REQUIRE THE HELP OF A HUMAN. I DON'T BELIEVE HE COULD HAVE BEEN CLEARER."

"I mean he--"

"Yeah, he could have--" A pair of unsure voices reassured each other. The nodding of the cone and the lion's mane became more confident with every word. They turned back to Havve and Phobos.

"I think I know just the guys, bud." Meouch's cuspids bared in a cocksure grin. "Beam us down, Sungy."

* * *

Christmas at NSP headquarters was just another day. No stockings hung by the fire with care, no visions of sugarplums, and no decorations were present. There were no gifts to be exchanged, guests to entertain or pleasantries to be said. There were, however, a couple of creatures stirring. 

As Ninja Brian reclined by the fire with his knitting, his best friend and roommate Danny Sexbang thumbed through the back of the morning paper. 

"Hey, NB?" Dan's voice projected across the room, pausing Brian between knit one and purl two. The master ninja's blue eyes bulged with anger. "Alright, cool, I can see you're listening now." 

Brian's knitting tore in two as he clenched his fists. 

"I was just wondering if you think I should go for this lovely lady who'll let me eat turkey and stuffing out of her butthole tonight, or the one who'll let me lick the gravy off her tits. The other one probably doesn't want a yeastie, but I mean, I am kind of feeling the gravy lube mood. Maybe if I get in there with the big guy first and rub it around the second one wouldn't notice... But then there's the additional problem where she might get wise and suck all the gravy off my dick first. So, which do you think?" 

A heavy, foreboding mood haunted the gap in conversation as Brian only seethed. 

"... Yeah, you're probably right. I'll get more full off the turkey, and the ass lady also has boobs too. It's like an entire free mea-- Hey, is there someone at the door right now?" 

A continuous drone of eight fists slamming against the front door drew Brian's attention as he tucked his project away. He gave the side pocket of his rocker-recliner a gentle pat as he rose to his feet. Rather than tightening his silken kimono as he joined Brian at the door, Dan unraveled the knot. 

"These escort services are getting pretty good. I love the future!" Dan's excitement dissipated soon as he flicked the locks and flung the door open. Part of it was the fact his escorts looked sort of like some male friends of his, but the rest was that Commander Meouch absentmindedly continued to knock on his face. He spoke again in deadpan. "I take it back. The future is the worst." 

"Oh, hey Ninja Brian!" Sung beamed, clamping a hand on Danny's shoulder. "And our good friend Dan. How's it shaking, fellas?" 

The rest of TWRP pushed past Dan to take up the living room while he was trapped in the Doc's kung-fu grip. Brian, seeing Dan absolutely miserable, was pleased enough to join them. He tented his hands as he settled back into his rocking chair. Icy blue eyes unblinking as they soaked in the scene. 

"It's shaki-- How the hell did you guys even get up here? We're on the 14th floor, and there's a callbox." 

"Oh, Havve Hogan took care of that fucker, b'y." Meouch, who'd still yet to apologize for punching Danny in the face, began to light up the cigar pressed between his jaw. 

"What did you do?" Swiveling on his hips with arms crossed, the Blue Banger poised a pointed gaze in the cyborg's direction. Phobos beside him shrunk, while Havve only pressed an object to his throat. 

"I GENTLY TUGGED ON IT." 

"You tu--Oh my God, what did he do?" A jovial chuckle passed under his ears as Sung took up his former place on the couch. 

"He pulled the whole thing off the wall. The unit, the door... Basically the whole front of the building." 

"Yeah, it was awesome!" Meouch chortled, bumping fists with Sung. Phobos cradled his head in his hands. Havve and Brian remained still. 

"It's Christmas!" Dan motioned toward the door, disdain seeping into his words. 

"We know!" Sung threw his hands up in enthusiasm. Unintentionally mocking his frazzled friend. "That's what we came for! Phobos, show him the thing." 

Phobos stood, placing the calendar into Dan's hands and flipping to the end. He pointed to the man with the pipe once more. With a squint, Dan elevated the object to scan over it. A few thoughtful nods followed as he handed it back. 

"I see. That's, indeed, someone's father." 

"Look closer, asshole." The Commander muttered with impatience, removing the cigar from his mouth. 

"He... has a sweet mustache to ride?" An eyebrow rose. He was answered with a fist slamming against his coffee table. 

"He's doing a Christmas, Danny! He's successfully doing a Christmas!" Doc Sung was all fired up, leaping to his feet to do some pointing at the image for himself. "There aren't any broken ornaments, there's no egg nog stains on any of the items in their home! No one's crying!" 

Aghast, Danny's mouth hung open in confusion. He lifted a finger, mouth open to speak, only to close both and sigh. His thumb found the divot of his chin as he thought. 

"So... Let's get this straight. You... Came to Earth, on Christmas." 

"Yes." 

"And in doing so, you destroyed at least one building, which is home to dozens of families who will be more than a little upset about it." 

"Uh huh." 

"I DESTROYED IT, TO BE FAIR. THE PROPER TOTAL OF PROPERTY DAMAGE EXCEEDS 100, 000 DOLLARS AND FOUR SEPARATE BUILDINGS." 

"You never told us what building you lived in, chief." Meouch interjected between puffs. 

"Alright, _fair_." Dan frowned, continuing his train of thought. "So you... Probably fucked up a lot of days on the way here. To learn about Christmas?" 

"That is correct." The weight of his actions began to buckle Sung's chipper attitude, but he attempted a smile. 

"From a mute... aaaand a Jewish person." 

"Wait, huh?" 

"I'm _Jewish_ , Doctor Sung. We don't celebrate Christmas." 

"..." Sung placed a fist under his chin, sucking in a deep breath. "Hm." 

"Yeah, buddy. Yeah 'hm'." A patronizing hand slapped the shorter man on the back. 

"But... Isn't Christmas a human holiday? I thought everyone did Christmas." 

"Man, what kind of ethnocentric bullshit are you bringing into my house?" Dan haughtily re-tied his kimono and made his way back to his paper, tugging it out from under Meouch's tush. 

"I'm... Sorry?" A weak response, considering Sung didn't know he'd done anything wrong. He trailed behind, joining the others to sit. 

"HE'S SAYING YOUR ACTIONS ARE TANTAMOUNT TO ASKING A GETHRALIAN IF THEY PARTICIPATE IN THE JIMPHONIC CULL, SIMPLY BECAUSE IT IS THE 7TH SUN IN THE SKY AND THEY'RE BOTH FROM SPACE." 

"That is kinda shitty of you, dude." Meouch, who had again been far more shitty to Dan since they'd arrived, did nothing to correct his own behavior. 

"It... Yeah, that kind of was, when you put it like that. Again, I'm really sorry." 

"Thanks. I... guess." Dan shoved himself back into his paper. Maybe if he ignored the problems, they would leave. But Ninja Brian had other plans. He was in instigator. 

A folded pamphlet slid in front of his paper, followed by the hairy wrist holding it. With a defeated look, the jewperhero traced the source, and looked up pleadingly into the unblinking stare of the ninja. He shook his head, begging for Brian not to spill the beans, but it was too late. The paper was snatched from Brian's hand by a nearby alien. 

"Chinese takeout?" Meouch curled his lip, handing the menu instead to Lord Phobos. The old boy probably had a better chance of making sense of it. "Does this have fucking anything to do with Christmas?" 

Three assured nods from Ninja Brian, as his eyes bore holes into Dan's.

* * *


End file.
